


thigmotropism

by owlinaminor



Series: thorbruce week 2k18 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plants, ThorBruce Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 10:30:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlinaminor/pseuds/owlinaminor
Summary: Thor pokes the top of the plant again.  This time, he exerts more force, so that the stalk bends down and springs back at him, sending a thorn directly into his index finger.He’s in love.





	thigmotropism

**Author's Note:**

> **thigmotropism:** the turning or bending of a plant or other organism in response to a touch stimulus.
> 
> the prompt for day one of [thorbruce week](https://twitter.com/thorbruceweek/status/1023737847071862786) was "firsts," which i chose to interpret as thor's first plant. i gave a presentation on energy investment in trees this morning, so that interpretation is admittedly a bit self-serving.

 

"Hey," Bruce says.  "Got you something."

When Thor hears this, in harmony with the dull _thud_ of the door kicked open, he is on the kitchen floor, stacks of reports and meeting minutes and citizen letters scattered around him.  He scrambles to his feet, and the papers follow – scraps of parchment and Midgardian letter paper stick to the bottom of his bare soles as he pads into the living room.   

Bruce is kicking off his shoes.  They land with twin _thuds,_ echoes of the door: one by the television, the other in between two stacks of old scientific journals.  It's funny: Thor has been to Bruce's lab, and it's the cleanest room he's ever entered.  He's not allowed to touch anything without rubber gloves on.  Every surface shines.  But at home, books go in piles, clothes go in mounds, dishes go in weekly cycles.  It has something to do with the division of work and home, Bruce said once.

But Thor isn't thinking of divisions now.  He crosses the living room in two strides, takes Bruce's hands in his, and leans in.

"Hey," he says.

Bruce grins up at him.  Time sputters and goes golden.   

"Hi."

 

It is half an hour, the removal of a few more items of clothing, and two bowls of ramen later that Thor's mind circles back around.

“You said you got me something?”

“Right!”  Bruce pulls himself to his feet with the aid of a nearby cabinet – they are both sitting on the floor now, plastic bowls brimming with hot soup perched on their bare legs – and heads back into the living room.  Thor watches him go: the muscles in his legs contracting in time with the swing of his arms, the slow, subconscious flexing of his glutes, just beneath the elastic of his boxer shorts.

“You know, I used to be a pretty organized person before I met you,” Bruce calls from the other room.

Thor eyes the cabinet above the sink.  A box of sugary cereal peeks out the half-open door, tipped on its side.  The cereal expired four years ago.  Thor knows this because he tried it, that morning.

“I did,” Bruce says, his voice getting louder.  “Every morning, I wrote down a list of tasks I had to accomplish, and I wouldn’t let myself go to bed until I accomplished each of them in order.  It’s how I finished my eight PhDs.”

“I thought it was seven?” Thor asks.

“Eight, seven, whatever.  Point is, I got shit done.  No distractions.”

Bruce comes back into the kitchen.  He’s now carrying a small, brown container, about the size of two fists pushed together, with a tiny green spike poking out the top.

“I thought you liked my distractions?”  Thor stands and goes to get a closer look.  The plant – for it must be a plant, no animal is spiky and contained like this – actually has several small shoots, all narrow, smooth, and speckled with white.

“I do like your distractions,” Bruce says.  “I’m adjusting.”

Thor pokes the top of the plant.  It stings, like the point of a newly forged sword.

“Who is this?” he asks.

“It’s an aloe vera plant,” Bruce explains.  “One of what we call succulents, plants that evolved in dry climates and retain a lot of water in thicker, fleshy sections.  They don’t need as much watering as other houseplants, so a lot of people find them easier to take care of.  There was a vendor selling them on my way home from work.  I know you wanted a dog, or a snake, or something –”   

"Or a horse," Thor adds.

“Or a horse.  But the building doesn’t allow pets, so this is the best I can do.”

Thor pokes the top of the plant again.  This time, he exerts more force, so that the stalk bends down and springs back at him, sending a thorn directly into his index finger.

He’s in love.

"I'm going to name her Valkyrie," Thor declares.  "Because, like Valkyrie, she is strong, sharp, and..." He tries to think of a third thing starting with "s."

"Ready to stab you at any moment," Bruce says.

Thor beams at him.  Doesn't quite alliterate, but that's fine. None of Bruce's PhDs are in literary devices.  He's pretty sure.

 

“You know, I took several electives on plants, at school in Asgard,” Thor says.  “Got pretty good at talking with them, actually.  They live for such a long time, at least our plants did, and I liked listening to them tell stories of past eons.”

Bruce shifts his weight on the mattress, goes from rubbing Thor’s back in smooth, clockwise circles to smaller figure eights.

“I know,” he says.  “Learning Groot was the one class in which you ever exhibited patience, you told me.”

Night has fallen, but there is still light emanating in through the window from streetlights, neon signs, and other windows, far across the dark sky.

“Do you think Valkyrie would talk to me?” Thor asks.

Bruce is silent for a long moment.  He lies down, his chest parallel to Thor’s, then rolls until he’s pressed up against Thor’s side.  Thor can feel his warmth, like this.  Can hear his heartbeat, low and steady, marking out the turning of the earth.

“I don’t know,” he says.  “But I think, if you talked to her, she would listen.”

 

And talk to her, he does.

Valkyrie the aloe vera plant sits on the kitchen window of Bruce’s apartment.  Thor bids her good morning when he starts Bruce’s pot of coffee, bids her good night when he finishes his most recent dent in the pile of dishes in the sink.  He reads aloud to her from his endless reports and notes and plans when they stop making sense inside his head.  He brings her into the living room when he watches the news, complains to her about the newest, stupidest things humans are doing to each other.  He plays CDs from Bruce’s stack until he finds songs she likes.

He takes her to council meetings, sits her at his right hand and looks to her in the midst of the worst arguments.  Remembers that growing things take time.

 

A few weeks later, Bruce brings Thor a cactus.  Then, an orchid.  After that, a hanging fern.

By the time their home in New Asgard is ready to break ground, Thor has enough saplings to fill the whole garden.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if i joke enough about bruce's ridiculously high number of phds will i stop being mad abt that one line in ragnarok? only time will tell.
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/owlinaminor)!


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